


Forever Fireworks

by DickBaggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 13:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4139124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DickBaggins/pseuds/DickBaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean visit that field again, of the 4th of July fireworks, and reminisce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever Fireworks

It’s breezy, but it’s nice too, wind chasing away the heat of the open field. Swinging his door open a second after Dean, Sam gets out, stretches and immediately slings his jacket back into the car. He looks around at the treeline, at the clearing, at the cloudy blue sky. There’s nice clouds, fluffy, white, and fast, screaming along the sky with the wind. 

“Nothing’s changed,” Dean tells him over the hood of the car, shaking his head. He smiles with his mouth closed, wistful, his eyes twinkling.

“Really?” Sam scrunches his face up, “Honestly, I don’t remember much of it, but it’s been almost twenty years. I’m sure the trees are bigger and encroaching on the field a bit, they’ve gotta be.” It does seem smaller than he remembered, but his memories of that night aren’t really of the foliage anyway. 

“Nope, nothing,” Dean argues, so flippant that it’s not worth questioning him. He shucks his coat too and grabs their backseat blanket, striding off towards some shade. “Get the cooler, Sammy,” he yells back.

It was probably the same dumb cooler they’d had since that July 4th, but then it was stuffed with soda and beer equally. Now it’s heavy with ice and nothing _but_  beer and Sam sweats in the sun just hauling it over. He finds Dean already spread out on the blanket, shirtless in the shade, pants undone too.

“Seriously?” Sam laughs, flopping down beside him, popping open the cooler and digging out the ice cold bottles. 

“Yeah, seriously, it’s a vacation and I’m not doing my pants up again. Suck it up.”

“Maybe later.” Sam stretches out too, toeing his boots off, looking around again, opening the beers. He knocks one icy bottle against Dean’s shoulder and his brother takes it with a grunt, half-raising to swallow a few mouthfuls. Sam remembers that, definitely, from that night so long ago, although Dean’s throat was slimmer, tighter, less stubbled. His lips were still just as pink and distracting around the rim; that never changed.

“Kinda can’t believe I found this place again, y’know?” Dean says, half-smiling, looking over at Sam. “That was like,  _the_  night for me.”

“Really?” Sam chuckles, ducking his head, smiling. “Kinda thought the flamingo motel room in Tampa was  _the_  night.”

“Not that, you perv,” Dean elbows him, “What do you remember about this place? I’m curious.”

“Uuuh,” Sam stalls, pursing his lips thoughtfully at his beer, at the trees ahead of them. “Fireworks, I guess. You, drinking, but I kinda have that memory everywhere we’ve ever been. And, I guess…the way you looked at me when we were watching the stars.” Sam shrugs and glances sidelong at his brother. Dean’s still smiling, wider.

“There you go.”

“What?”

“That’s it,” Dean shrugs, rocking closer so their shoulders jostle together. “You were lookin’ up at the stars and I was staring at your dumb kid face and I thought, ‘Jesus Christ, this is where I need to spend the rest of my life.’”

Sam huffs out a little breath, incredulous for a second. But he does remember, startlingly well, the exact way Dean looked at him that night. It’s not dissimilar to now, but there was more surprise, shyness, pink cheeks and fluttery lashes, nervous shifting and shuffling. Sam swallows hard. “Yeah, I saw it.”

“Yeah?”

“Pretty sure I didn’t know what it was, but…yeah.” He scoots closer, he has to, feeling the heat of Dean even through his clothes. 

“Good,” Dean nods terse, swigs back more beer and lets one hand rest on Sam’s thigh. “So, when was it for you?”

Sam actually laughs because there’s not an answer for that, not as clear cut as Dean’s anyway. So he just shakes his head, says, “Always? I mean, it’s always been there. So probably the same night as you, but…every other night too. Last night, right now, when you were looking at the beer in the liquor store an hour ago, when you woke me up with that dumb animal noises app yesterday morning.” Sam shrugs, trails off, hopes that answer is good enough.

It must be, because Dean nods with his mouth tight, eyes sweeping the trees, swallowing hard at his beer.

“And the whole thing in the flamingo motel room didn’t hurt either,” Sam adds, and Dean chokes out laughter, beer dribbling down his chin. He wipes it on his forearm, punching Sam soft in the shoulder.

It’s never the scenery that Sam remembers. It’s always the beer dripping down his brother’s face, Dean’s happy laughing eyes, Dean tucking under his arm and dragging him down onto the blanket, everything little and big telling him that they’re meant to be.


End file.
